Power Games
by Recipe
Summary: You keep speaking of the Goblin King, but he's not involved in this, sweet. What happened here is between the humans and the phaerie. No goblins in this mix. And like it or not - and I most certainly do not - the trade's done. You're part of the phaerie realm now. So quit your whining and move this wreckage, you'll do it for a bowl of soup. Do you accept this offer?
1. Prologue

**Power Games**

Disclaimer, I don't own shit.

I've never written a Labyrinth fic before. I'm actually not too familiar with the universe, but lately I've been in a fantasy mood… and this came out. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure where this is going, or if I'll continue it. I've just been reading a few Labyrinth fics and was tired of the same soul mate concept, of Sarah being the sole champion, etc.

Please do leave all thoughts, comments, suggestions in a review or a PM! Really, I don't know too much of what I'm doing here.

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Sarah, Miss Sarah, tell me about the sky!"

Sarah laughed as she swept Livaliy's hair from her face, as it had flown into a tangled mess hanging before the child's eyes in her excitement. "It was opposite from here," Sarah obliged, though she knew that Livaliy had heard her tell the scene enough to recite it. In fact, Sarah had once caught the little sprite reciting the scene to her doll as Sarah had once recited a certain play in a park. There was some irony in the fact that she had spent her whole life reading fairy tales, and here were two little phaerie children who wanted only stories of the Aboveground. "Here, the night claims the ground and the sky glows with stars. There, it's the sky that is swept in black, and the lights rise from the ground reaching for the curtain that hid away the sun."

"Was it like this?" Triefan squeezed his eyes shut in focus until his wings began to glow dimly, and he fluttered into the air.

Livaliy scowled at his interruption. "No, you look stupid."

"The Metal Forest didn't look half as handsome as you, Trief," Sarah cut in smoothly before the two could dissolve into quarrel. "Though," she allowed with a small smile, "it did have its charms."

"That's where you're from, right, Miss Sarah?" Livaliy said, beaming.

"Once," Sarah agreed, keeping a careful eye on Triefan as he began jumping on the oversized mushroom he was supposed to be sitting on. "I lived there once."

"Do you have any other stories about the Metal Dragons?" Triefan gave one last jump before he tucked his legs under and landed on the mushroom, bottom first, and bounced a few times.

Sarah winced. "Trains, Triefan," she corrected. She had once referred to the subway system as something akin to dragons that roared in the sweltering underground and carried you places, and the analogy stuck with Triefan. And then she had found out about the dragon race, and how they were a dangerous people to offend.

A knock on the door swallowed Triefan's retort, and the door opened to reveal their keeper. "One Toby," Ceira announced, as she always did, "for two sprites." From behind Ceira's skirts, Toby poked his head out with a grin that Sarah swore grew more and more impish every day.

"Not now!" Triefan complained. "Miss Sarah was just going to tell us about the Metal Dragons!"

"_Trains_," Sarah corrected again, "or next time there won't be any stories about them."

Triefan grumbled. "Fine, trains."

Ceira clicked her tongue against her mouth in disapproval, in that no-nonsense way that always grated on Sarah's nerves. Yes, the phaerie race dealt in trades, but Sarah had never seen someone interpret the phaerie rules quite as strictly and sternly as the pixie. Perhaps once she'd thought that pixies were the most mischievous of the phaeries – but then again, she had also once thought that that fairies weren't simply pests. Even so, most pixies Sarah could get along with – but Ceira pushed the concept of trade too far. Once, when Ceira had arrived in the middle of a story, Sarah had suggested that it wouldn't be a big deal if she finished. The way Ceira raged about indebtedness afterwards ensured that Sarah would never suggest such a thing again.

"One Toby was already returned," Ceira said, eyes flitting towards the human boy who was now plopped face down on the mushroom that served as their bed in their one-room home, "and now two sprites must be returned. That was the deal."

That had been one of the first things that Sarah had to learn quickly when she fell into the Underground. Phaeries dealt in trades. Dragons dealt in wisdom and riddles. And goblins – and goblins always in gambles. In games.

The others who had also fallen through the portal but didn't pick up the rules, or refused to comply – well, Sarah wasn't really sure what had happened to them. One day, they had simply disappeared.

"Go along now," Sarah instructed, lifting Livaliy from her lap as she stood. "I'll tell you a story first thing - " She swallowed her sentence before she offended the pixie with her assumptions. "I'll tell you a good one when next I see you."

Reluctantly the two phaerie children made their way to Ceira, who immediately grabbed both their hands. "Shall we extend the same deal tomorrow?"

"I accept the offer," Sarah recited.

"The deal is done." With that, the pixie spun on her toes and all three phaeries winked out of sight.

Barely a second of silence had passed when Toby said into the mushroom, "_Finally_." He rolled over. "I hate that part."

"You should learn the ways and the words of the phaerie," Sarah reminded him as she stood up to prepare dinner, before pausing. "In fact, that's what you're _supposed_ to be learning. That was part of the deal."

"I'm learning. Or," Toby said, considering, "they're _teaching_ me, at least. It's still stupid."

She privately thought that it was a little overdone as well, but Sarah kept her thoughts quiet as she eyed the boy who was being difficult. _He's twelve_, Sarah reminded herself. _He's supposed to be difficult right now._ "Well, as long as you're listening."

"I _do_ listen," Toby said. "That's how I get all my information for free. No trade needed. I'm hungry."

Laughing, Sarah tossed an apple at his head, but he caught it just in time. "All right, you little information thief. As long as you don't get caught eavesdropping." There'd be no telling what would happen to the boy if someone found him listening in to the rewards of deals that he wasn't partaking in.

"Like today," Toby continued, his mouth full. "I found out that Kings and Queens across five different races are coming around here to prepare for the Bicentennial Power Games. The phaeries are hosting this time around. But we're going to get to see the dragons, the mer, the trolls, the dwarves, and the goblins."

Sarah's hand almost slipped on the knife she was holding. "Oh, really?"

"The elves are still deliberating, because that's how much they hate the dwarves. And I think the giants came in last in the previous games, so they're not allowed to participate until next time," Toby said as he tossed the apple core into the trash. "You know, when I finally finish all this schooling crap I think I'd like to see the goblin kingdom. Their method of payment sounds way better than this phaerie stuff. You just have to be good at winning, and then everything's yours. When is dinner ready?"

_Of course. Of course he'd want to visit the goblin kingdom, of all kingdoms to choose from._ After all that effort to save him from the Goblin King, Toby _would _just walk right back in with open arms without even knowing about that little piece of past. But of course, when she was sixteen she had no way of knowing that one day they'd both be stuck here, anyways.

Sarah swallowed her sigh and retorted, "It'd be ready sooner if you got your butt over here and helped." She finished dicing the roots and slid them into a bowl.

Four servings. One for her, one for Toby. One for their neighbor who liked growing vegetables more than cooking them, but enjoyed eating just the same. One for the pixie downstairs who was too old to climb stairs and was renting them the attic room for the price of dinner six out of seven days a week, plus the company while eating.

The last of which, really, was quite a steal of deal. A roof in exchange for dinner. It was a good thing Ceynen liked her cooking enough to continue the contract.

"Start simmering a quarter of the roots," she commanded. "Ceynen is too old to manage the crunch."

Two years since they the camping trip stole them from the Aboveground, and in those two years, Sarah thought she had managed her life and Toby's life quite well enough, thank you very much – even if it meant she was a little (all right, always) busy.

Toby didn't move for a moment until he finally rolled off the mushroom and trudged over to the counter, carefully measuring out a quarter. "Are we ever going to eat with what's-her-face again?"

Sarah thought about the human girl who they had fed for a year. She was only a little older than Toby and had fallen through at the same time, and Sarah had thought to help the girl out. Eventually the girl had gotten her life together and moved out on her own and took her indebtedness with her, and –

Sarah stopped. That was too phaerie of a thought for her. She was _human_, she reminded herself, and humans valued things differently. The important point was that Sarah hadn't heard from the girl since, and she hoped the girl was doing well.

"I doubt it, Tob," Sarah said. "Now hurry up and start mincing the bulbs."

...

_Hello, Sarah_.

The voice was deep, musical, with an edge of danger that sent shivers down her spine. Instinctively, she knew he was here. Childishly, she hoped that if she didn't respond, he would disappear.

_Turn around._

She refused – and yet, even though her feet didn't move, she began to turn ever so slightly. Desperately she tried to resist, but movement was slow and she felt as if she was trying to move through molasses.

It was his magic. It was his goddamn magic, she knew.

"You have no power over me," she whispered, but if anything, she only began to turn faster to face –

Air.

Then, warm breath tickled her ear –

_I'm still behind you_.

With a jolt, Sarah sat upright, breath caught in her chest as she blinked, eyes slowly focusing.

She was at home. Beside her, Toby stirred slightly, but didn't wake up.

It was just a dream.

Slowly, as not to wake up her brother, she slid off the mushroom and padded across the room to pour a cup of water to calm her racing heart. When was the last time she had dreamed of the Goblin King? Probably during the month of living in the Underground. It had been a while.

It was all that talk about the games that had stirred up these dreams.

She huffed as she cupped the mug of water in her hands. _Goblin King_, she thought, sneering. She defeated him once when she was sixteen; she could defeat him again if need be. Especially now, when she knew the rules better.

But in the dark of night, she allowed herself to wonder what he looked like, the Goblin King. What he was doing now with the kingdom.

If he still remembered her.


	2. Chapter 1

**Power Games**

Have I mentioned that I'm out of my element here?

As a secondary disclaimer, some concepts of this world I've drawn from books such as _The Goblin Wood_ and _Poison_, which were a few of my favorite books as a kid.

Thanks for those of you who reviewed – now, help me out with the next chapter!

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Over the course of the past several weeks, the market had grown busier and busier with more bizarre faces appearing. The latest addition to the hodge podge sea were the elves, who had decided last minute to participate in the games and came the day before the games were due to begin.

That would have been yesterday.

"Foolish of 'em te come," grumbled a dwarf who she'd been standing beside, eyeing the elves with distaste. The elves were pale, slender beings, all with skin almost unnaturally white and silver hair, and with a purple and blue vein-like patterns tattooed from the back of their hands and up their arms and onto their necks.

Sarah had squinted at them. "Do they all look like that?" she had asked.

"The greater elves do," the dwarf said. "Dunno if they brought any lesser elves with 'em, that's how pretentious that lot is. Gremlins are the only half decent bunch of 'em, maybe, and see if any of these asswits will admit that they're of the same race as their so-called lessers. Not that I'm complainin', mind you – the less elves infectin' this place, the better."

One of the elves had overheard the dwarf and looked over, silver eyes immediately clouding into a rich violet. Sarah, who had sensed a fight was about to break out, had frantically remembered what dwarves dealt with – _gold and jewels, but if there is no gold to be had, they'll trade for mirth and beer._ Luckily the dwarf had yet to notice that he had garnered the elves' attention, so Sarah was able to smoothly suggest to him a nearby bar where she doubted the elves would frequent.

The dwarf had headed towards the tavern immediately, and Sarah turned to continue on her way, clutching her piece of paper.

Today, there were notably less dwarves in the market – perhaps the dwarf Sarah had encountered earlier spread word about the tavern and redirected his people there. Shifting her bag so that it sat a little better on her shoulder, Sarah looked for a way out of the crowd.

"It was good of you, yesterday, to have sent away that dwarf," a voice said.

Sarah spun around and came face to face with an elf. It was hard to say if this was the elf she had noticed yesterday – this man had eyes of gold, but she'd seen for herself that their eye colors weren't constant.

"My companion can be quite defensive, and all dwarves are crude and uncivilized enough to insult and provoke," the elf continued. His voice wasn't the tenor that she expected out of such a fair-featured man, but instead had some kind of rocky undertone that reminded her briefly of the ocean.

"Good of me? Or purely selfish?" Sarah challenged, grinning, "Maybe I just really wanted to find the seamstress, and a brawl wasn't going to help that."

He acknowledged her with a tilt of his head and said, "Be that as it may be, that was not your original intention."

Sarah had once heard that the elves were lacking in a sense of humor, and she was quickly finding herself agreeing with that statement. "That's true," she acknowledged slowly, "though I really did need to trade for a few pairs of pants."

"May I?" the elf asked, gesturing to her shoulder-bag.

Sarah hesitated before handing the bag over. What was it that elves dealt in? She couldn't remember…

"These are boys' clothing," the elf observed, and Sarah thought she could almost detect a note of surprise in his voice though his face remained impassive. "I did not think you had a son."

"I don't," Sarah agreed. "But my younger brother is growing too quickly for his own good."

"The Underground does stimulate human growth, that is true," the elf said. Sarah frowned; she had simply meant that Toby was at an age where he was hitting his growth spurts. What was this about Underground stimulation? "If I may, what did you trade for this?"

Now _that_ information was quite personal. In the past two years, Sarah had discovered that her stories traded quite well, and she had been able to strike up a deal with the seamstress in trading in story halves. Trading the first half a story usually garnered her quite a bit, and trading the last half of a story usually traded even better. But trades were a personal thing, and Sarah said, "That's a bold question to ask."

"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable," the elf said swiftly. "I simply meant to suggest that you may have paid too much for these clothes. These clothes are quite ordinary, and not worth much without enchantment."

"Enchantment?" Sarah echoed. "In the Aboveground, we only have one story about enchanted clothing, and it's about an emperor who ended up parading around town naked."

The elf opened his mouth and then closed it again, a slight frown tugging at his lips. It was almost an amusing sight to see an elf in confusion, if Sarah herself hadn't been confused as well. "I confess, I do not know much of the Aboveground, but here, any clothes worth looking at are at least minimally enchanted," he said finally.

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" she demanded. If this elf was suggesting that she didn't know how to trade – she was doing just _fine_, thank you very much. She knew how to bargain, and she knew how to select the highest quality and most durable fabrics. And the clothes she picked out today were quite nice, if she did say so herself, so that both she and Toby could look proper and presentable when watching the opening to the games that night.

"Enchanted to always keep clean and not rip, for instance," the elf explained. "Or enchanted to grow and shrink to fit its wearer. Those are usually the most basic, fundamental enchantments you'll find on commonplace clothing. More advanced enchantments include modifying the clothing's shape, fabric, and color to match an occasion. You'll find that most of us don't own more than one or two outfits, as it's quite unnecessary."

_Fuck_. She _had_ noticed that she seemed to be the seamstress's only regular trader. She had also been trading back now too-small clothing along with a short story in exchange for additional new clothing for Toby. _Robbed_. "You're kidding," Sarah said. "I've been trading her stories for clothes for the past two years, and she never said anything."

The elf's eyebrows lifted. "Stories? I hope, not stories that you had written yourself?"

Sarah scowled, suddenly relating to the dwarf about how elves were pretentious and condescending. "Stories are free, they cost nothing," she defended.

"Do they not cost you energy?" the elf asked, surprise now more evident in his tone.

It was a bit tiring to put the words to paper – to phrase everything just right – to fully form a decent story, she supposed. But at the same time, it was exhilarating to piece together a story. It gave her a _rush_. "A little, I guess," she admitted. "But not with these small stories, they're not terribly draining at all."

The elf was silent for a moment. "I believe I have not introduced myself to you," the elf said finally. "My name is Evithian. Do you mind if I accompany you for a turn? I may be able to enchant these clothes for you."

…

Elves, she learned later, dealt in gifts. "Our phaerie brethren know little of grace," Evithian had told her. For elves, it was considered an honor to be able to afford gifts. Gifting implied that the giver had wealth, while receiving gifts implied that the receiver was dependent on the giver. Ultimately, those of equal rank ended up giving and receiving just as frequently – every gift received was countered with a gift given. From that point of view, Sarah saw that it was quite similar to the phaerie concepts of trade and indebtedness, but a little more – to use Evithian's term – "gracious."

The pixies – one in particular – ought to learn a bit more from the elves, Sarah privately thought.

"I admit that I am not very familiar with such spells," Evithian said as he laid the clothes out on the mushroom, "but at the very least I can shape it to always mold its wearer. You will want to find someone who can cast a spell to keep it clean and whole." He placed two fingers on the first article of clothing – a pair of trousers – and the blue and violet inked veins on his arms pulsed once.

Unsure of where "accompanying you for a turn" meant, Sarah had invited him to her single room home. Vaguely she wondered if inviting an elf to her home meant something more significant than the "hey, let's hang out" message it meant for humans.

Ah, well, if it did mean something more – well, then, too late for that one.

"Thanks," Sarah said. So maybe she had been a bit quick to judge when the elf said her wares were pathetic. It was a good thing that he'd offended her pride, she told herself. Otherwise, who knows how long she would have continued to be scammed by the seamstress? "Could I get you some water? Treemilk?"

He placed two fingers on the last article of clothing – a dress, for herself. Just yesterday she had been quite proud of herself for negotiating the dress out of the seamstress. Now, it was a sullen reminder of her own naivety.

"Water, thank you," he accepted, opening his eyes as he finished the spell, and Sarah remembered him mentioning something about how it was considered rude to reject an offer of a gift.

"Right." She watched, entranced, as the inked veins slowly dimmed before shaking herself and grabbing a glass to fill at the rainwater tap.

Silence settled, with Sarah watching the water slowly trickle from the tap. Yes, the water always tasted sweet and had an attractive iridescent sheen to it, but she was always slightly too impatient waiting for a glass to fill and the tap was just _glacial_. Once when she had a spare moment, she had tried setting aside a few bottles of rainwater for later, only to find that letting the water sit made it go still and left an aftertaste of mud.

Better to just wait it out, she had decided – which was an agonizing wait when she had gotten a cough in one of her first months here.

The glass was halfway full (or halfway empty?) when Evithian suddenly spoke up. "Sarah," he said, "do you know how magic works?"

"Of course," Sarah said absentmindedly, watching the cup. _Almost there. Almost there.._. "It – " She broke off. _Did_ she know how magic worked? She had been in the Underground for so long it seemed commonplace now, but she didn't actually understand its workings. "No," she realized.

"It's innate to us. Different races have different forms of magic, and we can bend it differently. But it's not inexhaustible. Thank you," Evithian explained, accepting the cup as Sarah handed it over. Hands free, she gathered up the clothes and sat on the mushroom, cross-legged, and gestured to the spot beside her. The elf dipped his head and gingerly – and, with much more grace then she did, sat beside her on the mushroom.

"Some are born with more power than others. Every spell costs something – and if you cast too many spells, or if you cast too difficult of a spell, you can drain yourself of magic stamina," the elf continued. "After rest, the magic usually replenishes itself, just as when you go to bed after a long day and wake up refreshed. But there are a few who have pushed themselves too hard and never regained their abilities. I say magic stamina, Sarah, because that's precisely what it is – with practice, you can improve your stamina, but it can also be broken.

"And what is magic itself? It's difficult to define, because it takes so many different forms. But, Sarah, would you claim that to create something out of nothing is magic?"

Sarah eyed him – silver hair, gold eyes, too-pale skin in stark contrast to the vivid blue and purple veins sketched across his body, wiry but postured frame, thin lips that were barely parted. He wanted her to say yes, she knew, but it felt like a trick question. It was leading somewhere, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to give him the answer he sought.

But then again, he _had_ done her a favor of spelling the clothes, so she bit back her pride and said, "Yes."

"The stories you create, then." He held his palm face up, and a shadowy figure the same color of purple as the purple of his skin rose into the air and began dancing. "The creation of a world, the birthing of characters – even in the word _creativity_ is the root _create_. And _that_," Evithian said, as the figure broke apart into nothing, "is human magic."

If he was expecting an awed silence or a gasp of surprise, he was about to be sorely disappointed. Sarah threw back her head and laughed.

Evithian frowned. "Do you mock me?"

"No," Sarah said hastily, hiccupping as she tried to contain her laughter. "No, I just don't believe you. Magic – it's an action. It _does_ something. Like, turning clothes into something that can resize itself. Or disappearing on the spot. Or rearranging the stars."

"That is one form of magic," Evithian agreed, "but what is the worth of the ability do such actions if you don't ever think of what to do? And that is human magic – it is the inspiration of what magic can do. Everything that you see in this world that is magic – some human had thought it up. Humans are the balance of the world of magic – they cannot perform, so they cannot ever destroy us; and we cannot grow if we destroy them."

_I can give you your dreams…_

Sarah blinked as words that used to haunt her nights drifted over her.

_My kingdom as great…_

"Shit," she breathed, letting out a shaky laugh. This was the kind of explanation she needed when she first arrived to the Underground. No wonder the phaeries had been willing to teach Toby in exchange for her to tell stories to two little sprites. In fact, they probably would have been happy to teach Toby anyways, simply because the kid was an inventive little bugger and they'd want that creativity out of him.

She'd been cheated all around. Fuck it all again. And she had thought she was doing so well, too…

"Why wasn't I absorbed into the elven realm two years ago?" Sarah said, a wry grin on her face. "I'd have to trade to get this information out of the phaeries, and I wouldn't have even known what to ask to get this kind of knowledge."

Evithian smiled for the first time, and Sarah was suddenly struck by how ethereally handsome he was. "Well, in that case," he said, "would you care to join the elven race in these Power Games tonight?"


End file.
